Editing M43 (section)

==Council at Tembor==
'''4 --- 877.M42'''
===Contact: WAAGH! Tygahfang===
: The empire of the Overfiend Tygahfang had been brewing and growing in the flickering darkness of the 42nd millennium. Encompassing an entire sector, it soon became more than a thorn in the side of the galaxy. When the twin Imperial worlds of Addiglan Prime and Secundus fell, the Imperium was alerted to its existence. And when the agri-world of Maristellen cried out in astropathic despair as the green tide descended upon them, the Imperium moved. By the time any significant forces were nearing the beleaguered world, it was gone, swept away by the Orks. Their incessant desire to fight, kill, and conquer led them to another world in the system, Tembor, a once dead, rocky world, terraformed long ago so that mining operations could proceed without suffocation. It was about to be terraformed once again, by the fires and machines of war.


: On the fields of Tembor, a Cadian Regiment had just finished digging in when the outer elements of a fighta group slammed into them. Hundreds of tiny gretchin broke against the walls of Guardsmen. The flashing lasguns burned down the tiny orkoids. What meager few managed to make it through the searing firing line were put down by hand. The endless waves of gretchin didn’t seem to slow. Soon nobs filtered into the green. The bigger orks were not going down as easy. Soon the two forces impacted wholeheartedly. Guardsmen would exhaust a powerpack taking down a nob and then be overrun by a group of gretchins; their comrades not having the time to worry or dare to shoot the tiny enemies for fear of hitting their friends. Later, when blood was flowing freely, the Meganobs, although few, waded into the fray. Commisars were shooting at their fleeing men one second and then sawing through an ork the next. It was complete chaos. A lieutenant squared off against one of the Meganobs. Valiant though his efforts were, he too fell, being caught by a Power Klaw. The Meganob was down an arm and missing its lower jaw. All across the battlefields of Tembor, this scene was repeating itself, outcomes as various as the combatants. 


: Above the planet, the Imperial Navy was embroiled in a similar fight above the planet. Brilliant, tight lines of destruction from lance batteries criss crossed the dirty plumes of the shells from gunz. Tiny Thunderhawks twisted and turned in time with Fightas and Bombas. The engines of a Cruiser, the Resolute Aggression,  flared and it lurched toward a humongous Kill Kroozer. The mekboss, second to the Overfiend Tygahfang, commanding ork of the space fighta group, and captain of the Sun Shatterah, roared as the Imperial ship embedded its prow into his capital ship.

:A massive salvo of asteroid chunks issued from the starboard side of the Sun Shatterah. The rocks with a smattering of repurposed engines flew into the Imperial formations. A destroyer, Breakpoint, attempted to maneuver out of the way and caught one abreast. The mass weapon and destroyer shattered. The Imperials were in disarray from the attack. The smaller Kroozers and Destroyas surged into the gaps and it no longer was organized fighting, just close brawling. Ships no longer had time to maneuver their way through the fray. A Kroozer couldn’t decelerate and turn in time; it plowed and scraped along the side of a Battle Barge and took a salvo literally point blank which cracked its keel and left it a blasted wreck. A pair of Destroyers collided, one running from the guns of the Sun Shatterah, the other plying in to rake a Kroozer with a broadside. They cracked and groaned as the impact fused them together and they began to drift lazily on the resultant vector. The orks still shot at it. It seemed that the one-off attack from the Sun Shatterah turned the tide of battle to the orks favor. Should the Orks claim victory in the skies above Tembor, it wouldn’t be long for the same to occur on the ground.


: The mekboss, Funderhorn, roared at his crew to call in the other Fighta Groups from around the sector. Having detected signatures approaching in the Warp, Funderhorn wanted all the possible Orks fighting in space because he knew that he hadn’t won yet. Also, he didn’t want to deny his orks the chance to fight. Huge blooms of twirling Warp energy appeared on the edge of the battlespace. The Fighta Group, VoidBreaka flew into the upper port region of the Ork lines. At the same time, the small fleet of the Ultramarines, containing a smattering of Cruisers, Destroyers and even a pair of Battleships, came up underneath the area. Behind the fleet, a massive rift opened and the battleship, Alabaster Gleaming, slid out. The mekboss cursed at his luck that an equivalent Imperial ship would show up. Now he actually had to put his noggin to use to fight. But then he remembered that he liked to fight.


: The captain of the Alabaster Gleaming listened to an attendee rattle off current battle reports. “Our comrades, the 9th Expeditionary Fleet, are currently reforming their lines. Thermal scans show the a moderate amount of the Ork vessels have only been here a short time. Perhaps our arrival has been more fortuitous than we thought.” As if to confirm the report, a voice came up on the vox, “This is acting admiral Lund Cythos! I am so glad to see you. The orks have a good commander. We thought we were through when that fresh group showed up. I hope your admiral has a good head on his shoulders.” The captain voxed back, “Strengthen your starboard flank, we will hold and attack from port.” “For the Emperor! Out” As the vox crackled out, a massive figure stepped from the shadows of a bulkhead. “Have the battleship, Cradle of Destruction, and her escorts slingshot around the planet,” the hulk commanded as he reached a raised dais in the middle of the bridge. “You heard Lord Guilliman! Let us purge these xenos for the Emperor!”


: Roboute stood, regal, in gleaming blue armor. “My lord, if I may, that warboss has been reported to be very clever. No doubt he will deduce that the Cradle and her group will come up from beneath the planet.” The primarch raised an eyebrow, “I’m counting on it. Tell the Cradle to  adjust 120 degrees to port and begin ten percent rotation. I intend for them to slingshot down, out of view and scanners and then slam into the newer ork battlegroup near the 9th’s starboard
flank.” The plan sank in at about the same time as the Alabaster began to fire her giant prow cannons. The Cradle of Destruction dropped down and headed towards the planet. 

	
: The steel-white void ship screamed toward the planet. Her prow and crenellations flared, casting off burning waves of atmosphere. As she gained velocity, her antennae and proud extrusions began casting off sonic booms if they had dipped into the upper sphere.  As she twisted about, orienting to the planet, her entire underside grabbed the air. The south pole of the world bathed in white borealis as a massive amount of atmosphere burned in an instant. No sooner the ship had reached the zenith of her burn and lifted out of the outer limits. The engine cones of her escort ships flared as they tried to keep pace. They began to crest the equatorial line.

	
: Funderhorn roared at his talkie-nob warning the captain of the Voidbreaka group to guard his rear. The humie ships had dropped down and were sure to come up beneath. Rather quickly, a triplet of Destroyas and two Kroozers had begun to swing around and twist downward. Funderhorn rose from his throne/command chair and walked toward the ramshackle viewing window to watch the counter to the pincer move. The humies were flying right into his Power Klaw. To his left  he saw a glint, the sun of the system refracting off the polished prow of the Cradle of Destruction. Her escorts gleamed in the sunlight. Seconds later, tiny puffs of venting propellent and the actinic flash of lance batteries firing appeared. All of Voidbreaka was completely broadside, and Funderhorn had been out maneuvered for the first time. As the spear of Imperial naval might crashed into the Voidbreaka battlegroup, it ceased to be a fighting unit. A Destroya was gutted from stem to stern from a lance shot. The Kill Kroozer, Deca-Dent, was ripped in half as her keel shattered when the Cradle of Destruction punched through. With that Funderhorn was now on the defensive. He rampaged about his bridge smashing anything that wasn’t smart enough to get out of the way. The tides of battle were about to change again. Ships on both sides began to ping more contacts approaching from the Warp. From everywhere.

	
: Four full Fighta groups decelerated from Warp travel around the rear quadrants of the Funderhorns main force. Fighta Groups Klank-en-Krank and Black Dredge exited the aether side by side, to Funderhorn’s rear. The Morkifactors trawled out of the rifts to Funderhorn’s lower starboard, the massive Battle Hulk in the middle of the formation. Finally, the surprisingly organized Green Leejun fly into battle near to the now defunct Voidbreaka group. The bridge of the Alabaster Gleamin held its breath while the mekboss on Sun Shatterah was laughing like a maniac. Guilliman broke the silence, “Oh good. I was beginning to think I might look a fool if they hadn’t shown up.” The personnel on the bridge stared at him as though he was mad. The captain stuttered out something resembling a ‘we can’t hope to win now” Robout cocked his head and calmly asked if they were still pinging Warp contacts. “Uhhh….um, y-y-yes.”

	
: Indeed, there were still contacts pinging in the Warp. Within seconds, a fleet of Salamanders slid out of un-reality. Vulkan had come to Tembor. To the back of Guilliman’s fleet a cornucopia of rifts opened up and the large fleet of Khan’s White Scars zipped out. The tiny Corvettes and Fast Frigates spun and twisted, eager to get into the fight. The larger Light Cruisers lumbered forward, looking to reinforce the battered 9th Fleet. Above the Cradle of Destruction’s detachment, a Crimson Fist detachment materialized. Finally, the small fleet of the Red Scorpions stormed in underneath Guilliman’s Fleet. The stage was set, hundreds of ships facing off in a bloodbath unseen for some time.

	
: “Brothers! I’m glad to see you get here. I didn’t want to take all the glory for myself.” “Heh, you move so slow, I could’ve stopped for tea on a pleasure world.” “I’m just glad you aren’t dead.” “Glad we got that out of the way. Jaghatai, I want you to take care of that massive Kill Kroozer. And Vulkan, I want you to hit Tembor and take command. The Crimson Fists and Red Scorpions will accompany you down. I will retain command of the forces above the planet,” commanded Roboute. Granted, all three primarchs were equal but Guilliman had been there first and they tended to defer to his tactical decisions. The tiny exhaust trails of drop pods and the twin, spiraling lines of Thunderhawks rushed towards the surface of Tembor. The mass of Imperial ships undulated as they rearranged into a new cohesive force and began firing into the greenskins. Jaghatai’s small but fast ships scythed into action, twisting around blazing ork roundz and glowing wreckage, heading toward the Sun Shatterah. For the Emperor.

===The Hunt===
: Jaghatai’s command ship, the Energa Sonica, groaned as her hull strained against the powerful whims of her main engines and maneuvering thrusters. “Men,” the Khan began, “on that Kill Kroozer is an ork. A strong ork. Let the hunt begin.” A raucous cheer went up and then a silence came down to accompany the grim focus. “Bring us along that Kroozer, keep us out of the Sun Shatterah’s gun sights for as long as possible,” the primarch ordered. As they neared their target, the battlegroup split, a group heading for the embedded Resolute Aggression, Khan’s group headed for the top decks, the other headed for smaller point on the bottom and rear of the massive ork ship. The Energa Sonica screeched in torment as she twisted suddenly, the piloting Naval men and the Machine Spirits throwing her barely out of the way of a sickly streamer of plasma that had lanced out from the Kill Kroozer. A corvette behind her wasn’t so lucky and a hole boiled down her length. “Fire at the Kroozer! She may not be our target but why give my brother one more kill!?!” Jaghatai shouted. In seconds, thumps vibrated in from the port side of the ship as she fired. As the ships in his group flashed past, they pumped the Kroozer full of death. One of the shots must have hit a cooling conduit because she exploded outward as the reactors went supernova. Jaghatai left the bridge and met up with his men as they prepared to assault the ork capital ship. 

	
: His boots clicked as they magnetically gripped the wrought floor. What ever passed for a gravity generator in ork culture must have taken a hit. Khan marched forward. The first green skin he saw came howling out of a side passage. He flicked out his power spear and dissected the ork as it was no more than an afterthought. It was just the beginning of the green tide; he could hear their shouts and growls from deeper in the ship. Suddenly, he felt a weight hit his shoulders. The gravity was back. The primarch flexed his legs and took off in a dead sprint, his men right on his heels. The hunt was on. A party of orks appeared at the end of a hall, ready to stop the intruders. The gretchins were pasted on the ceramite armor and the nobs quickly fell to flickering power weapons. No momentum was lost. All across the ship, fast moving boarding parties sped through, killing all in their path.

	
: “My lord, the bridge is near. Surely the greenskins have reinforced it,” one of Khan’s personal guard voxed out. “It won’t be easy for sure. The mekboss won’t give us any breaks either. Have as many squads as possible mass around the bridge, we are going to need as many Astartes as possible,” Jaghatai ordered. Several dead orks later, they were at the gate to the bridge. The voxes started to crackle as squads started reporting, “Sergeant Oroko checking in, at a door on the port side. This is Captain Bayobani. We are at a gate on the stern side of the bridge. Sergeant Aruna and his squad are ready at a service entrance not far from us.” The Khan gritted his teeth, it wasn’t as many as he’d hoped. “We can’t waste time. Four squads is going to have to be enough…..breach on my mark, krak grenades in after. When they blow, we rush and hit hard. As soon as the mekboss is open, take him.” The air was palpable, waiting for the right time. “MARK! BREACHING!” blared through voxes. All four points of ingress exploded.

	
: Clusters of nobs were annihilated wholesale by grouped krak grenades. A pair of meganobs had their Mega Armor fused to their bodies as the pressure liquified their ramshackle exosuits. Amidst the dust, White Scars rushed in. Oroko had stalled against a large group of boyz by the mekanickle stations. Bayobani and Aruna had linked back up and were pressing inward. Jaghatai’s group had made it the farthest, having the bulk of the opposition die in the initial explosions. Pinning the mekboss and the orks near him with bolter fire, several of the Khan’s squad spread off to flank the orks holding off Oroko and his squad. The once smoky and greasy bridge of the Sun Shatterah had become clogged with smoke. Every station was a mess of sparking electronics and fires. Several vents had failed or been punctured by stray fire and were twisting the smoke into choking whorls. Due to the krak grenades the floor actually had several large holes leading to lower decks. Soon all that was left was the mekboss. But reinforcements could be heard shouting as they neared the bridge.

	
: “Guard the doors! Keep those greenskins out of here! The mekboss is mine!” roared Jaghatai. The living White Scars took up defensive positions as the orks started their attempts to retake the bridge. Bolter round echoed off the corridor walls and parts of the room flashed as a melta round was fired or a flamer started spitting fire.
	
: “Ya ‘umies gotz pr’etty big ballz fer comin’ ‘ere! Ah hope ya knowz I ain’t kuhmander uh dis fleet fer nothin’. Da mekboss, Funderhorn iz gonna krump ya an’ den da boss iz gonna gimme uh r’ward,” the ork roared as he trundled forward, Power Klaw swinging. Funderhorn adjusted his stance and his huge shoota began to spit out rounds. Jaghatai dodged and roll forward though several did hit him. Being simple rounds they spattered off his armor like it was nothing. The primarch started a light footed attack, bounding around the mekboss, making quick stabs with his power spear. The ork was getting haggard… and frustrated.

	
: The mekboss was freely bleeding from half a dozen punctures. His mega armor was leaking fluids from several more. Funderhorn swung his Power Klaw haphazardly and stumbled forward. Jaghatai took the opening with practiced ease. His armor groaned as he lept up and drove his power spear down into the open chest of the ork. The mekboss cried out, “Uhhhhh….Gork un Mork, dat ‘urt. Luckee fer me, I’z got me... uh seckend ‘eart I made me self.” The ork rose from what would have been a fatal blow. His Klaw reached up and bisected the power spear in several pieces. The ork roared forward and slammed his power klaw down towards the primarch. Khan caught it with his gauntlets, pressing it overhead as the orky mechanics strained to get the upper hand. The shoota swung around towards Khan. He dropped one hand from the Klaw to grab the gun. The shoota wobbled as the primarch and the mekboss fought for control of the shoota. Meanwhile the rounds went wild, many embedding themselves in the walls and deck. Several shattered harmlessly against the Klaw and the humans pauldron. The primarch smirked hearing the shoota click empty. The ork’s smirk was larger. Funderhorn tossed the gun aside and slugged the Khan, knocking him out from under his Klaw and sending him airborne.

	
: Jaghatai got to one knee and looked at the ork, “hmmmm, for a second there, I thought this fight was going to be too easy.” “You’s pretty cocky fer uh ‘umie wearin’ wight.” Jaghatai chuckled to himself. The Khan looked around the carnage and found a pair of  choppas, not the same of course. The mekboss hefted a massive hammer. “You ready for round two, ork?” Khan asked. “Roun two? Whoz countin’ roun’s ya git? Wez gonna fight til I krumpa right good,” Funderhorn responded while lightly swinging his hammer in mock. “Alright, alright. But I don’t think it’s terribly fair. These ‘ork choppas’ aren’t balanced at all. They’re complete junk.” Jaghatai quipped, not to anyone in particular. “Junk? Ain’t balanst? Dems da best choppas ya eva gonna see! Now ahma krumpa real ‘ard!” The primarch smiled on the inside at the sleight of hand, “Well maybe I was mistaken.” He sprung forward re-engaging the mekboss.

	
: All around the duel the White Scars were holding the doors like classic choke points. The orks gladly threw themselves at the defenders. The angry shouts coming from the port side suddenly changed to confused grunts. The hallways light up with tiny flashes of lasfire and bolter explosions. Captain Terantsu, a squad of veterans and a good two dozen Guardsman converged in the intersection from the door Oroko was holding. The orks in between were killed swiftly, caught between the Imperial pincers. Oroko was stunned, “Where did you come from esteemed Captain?” The captain lifted his storm bolter up vertical and responded, “We had the Tengukaze drop us on the embedded Resolute Aggression. We went through and cleared the orks and rounded up these guys. Heard the voxes say something about converging on the bridge so we headed here.” The two leaders quickly ran down the sitreps for each other. Both turned, along with their battle-brothers toward the corridors having heard the shouts and yells of orks getting close. Then everyone in the congregation twitched back toward the bridge as a severed Power Klaw whizzed through the air and lodged in the bulkhead.

	
: The Primarch of the White Scars had gained the upperhand over the mekboss. Rolling and twirling with his now excellently crafted Choppas, he started to bleed the ork. Funderhorn swung and drove his hammer down trying to crush the primarch. He rolled out and grabbed the Power Klaw that the mekboss was using as a counterweight. With a powerful swing, the primarch removed the limb. Bring the weapon down and carrying the momentum, he threw the Power Klaw out to the side. The mekboss roared in pain, flailing his hammer in spastic swings. Deftly avoiding the drunken blows, Jaghatai lept up, once again, and planted a choppa in the ork’s head. The greenskin stumbled, and sagged down to the deck. The mekboss fought to stay alive, to stay in the fight. The primarch tossed away the other choppa, glad to be rid of the xeno tech. As the ork kneeled on the floor attempting to get his bearings and reconcile what had happened, Jaghatai walked up and punched the mekboss in the chest. His gauntlet plunged deep into the body of the ork. With a splattering of ork blood and flesh, the primarch ripped out the secondary mechanical heart. The ork was dead.

	
: Soon the Sun Shatterah was taken, the bulk of the orks purged. Jaghatai relayed his victory to his brother. Roboute ordered him to have his men overload the reactors and get out of there, back to the main fleet. Jaghatai was the last to leave, stepping on to a Thunderhawk on a short jaunt back to the Energa Sonica. He was holding a gore covered mechanical sphere that seemed to pulse every so often.

===Purifying Fire, Unyielding Steel===
: The Thunderhawk’s skin glowed as the air bubble around it boiled and sloughed off. The thick atmosphere buffeted the transport. Behind it, a pair of escorting Stormhawks dropped back and away as the wash threatened to pull them out of the sky. The group of flyers were flung back and forth as drop pods flashed past. The high pressure cones of air in front of the drop pods created whorls and pockets of vacuum. As the vessels dropped lower and lower, the orks on the ground took notice of, not just them, but all the incoming Imperial forces. Frak bursts began to dot the sky. Burning streams of plasma traced arcs through the air, evaporating clouds and metal. 
	

: Vulkan was jostled about as the Thunderhawk jinked and yawed, avoiding the frak rounds. A pair of plasma globs blazed through the space the transport had previously occupied. Frak rounds started to cluster about the group of airships. It was apparent that a greenskin had some sort of dakka-hardon for downing these particular ships. “This is going to get rough, my Lord,” the pilot morbidly reported. Vulkan’s gaze narrowed, but he said nothing. Seconds later the pilot killed the power and the ship dropped like a rock. The ship powered back on to avoid reaching speeds that couldn’t be recovered from. “Ignis Wing, prepare for the arrival of our Lord,” the pilot called out to the escorting Stormhawks. The pair of escorts pulled ahead of their charge as they burned down towards the surface. Far below, ribbons of smoke stretched out from the gunships as they pounded the designated landing area with rockets and autogun fire.


: A cluster of drop pods pounded down into the small mining settlement of Orfin’s Respite. Orfin’s Respite hadn’t been too much before the orks came to Tembor. Roughly two-thirds of the border had a retaining wall that also served as a barely passable defensive position. Inside the ring were several buildings devoted to daily mining operations, a tall comm building, a couple of equipment vaults, and the rest was smattered with multi-tiered hab blocks. This was a fairly standard setup for smaller mining settlements. The bigger, more populated settlements just had a couple more tiers and more space, buildings, and emplacements for mining.


: Right now, there were several large pillars of smoke rising from Orfin’s Respite along with the still wavering heat trails of the drop pods. The few squads of Imperial Guard, the local PDF and those local defenders assumed the massive explosions were some new ork weapon and that a greenskin assault was nigh. While they were correct that a horde of orks was on its way, they were surprised to see the blue-red armor of the Crimson Fist chapter stride out of the smoky craters. The helmetless sergeant looked at the motley group assembled before his drop pod, “Men and women of the Imperium, we are here to purge this world of the green xeno scum. That you are alive is proof of the resilience of mankind. Now prepare to defend yourselves and your home once again.” The other Astartes marched towards predetermined positions and began reinforcing and digging in with the nearby defenders. It was solemn work, but had to be done. The Marines, for the most part, weren’t silent golems. They talked, instructed, gave advice, corrected, or just asked about the human’s daily life. “If you take the time to mark out ranges, your accuracy will be much better in battle.” “Do you have a family?” “If you kill the bigger greenskins, usually the little ones will panick.” “Have you tried using any of your mining equipment in an offensive manner?” “Why did you join the Imperial Guard?” Through long lectures, the men of the Crimson Fists had learned that no matter the strength of a defensive position, it meant nothing if those manning it were not at their best. Soon, shouts of the WAAAGH! were heard in the distance.


: Unlike the Crimson Fists, the Salamanders were not hunkering down. They were on the move. Smaller squads and groups were on their way to intercept break-off greenskin hordes or flank the main horde. Vulkan was at the front of the advance. The two forces finally met in combat on the fields outside the capital city of Lomardia. The fields were already filled with the dead and decaying bodies of humans, orks and machinery. The old fires of ammo dumps and vehicle fuel cells were still burning weakly when new flames began to crop up. The outer lines of the orks folded under the withering assault of the Imperial forces. 
Having gotten an idea of the general strength of the various sections of orks, Vulkan ordered around his various divisions to complement their strengths. The renewed vigor of the Cadian survivors was directed at a sector purportedly controlled by a simple warboss. The PDF and shoddy conscripts were aimed at the hills that temporarily housed the gretchin supplements. The nastier sectors of the ork horde would be taken on by the Salamanders and the other attached groups of Astartes. As the assault neared the city, ork resistance amped up. It was clear to all that the Overfiend was somewhere in Lomardia.


: Vulkan shrugged as a few errant shoota rounds spattered against his pauldrons. “Lucky hits, as usual,” the primarch grumbled to himself. They were nearing one of the main entrances to the city. Once inside, the possibility of taking stray rounds was reduced to practically nil, but the orks would be even more gleeful, putting their choppas to great use. “Men! One final push! The greenskins fall beneath the might of the Emperor!” Vulkan shouted. No sooner than his battle cry had ended, a warboss in Mega Armor plodded out with a guard of heavily armed nobs. The ork’s voice rumbled out through the battlefield, “Dese humies tink dey got da snot ta git ta da Ova’fiend! Da gits! An’ lookit ‘em, deys not true green.” The orks roared in agreement, some firing their shootas into the air, others waving their choppas about. Vulkan responded by starting the Salamander’s battlecry, “INTO THE FIRES!” His men responded, “UNTO THE ANVILS OF WAR!” The two sides surged together, swords and choppas clashing, bolters and shootas firing like wild.


: In hushed but harsh tones, Vulkan spoke into his vox, “Burn all to ash. Activate Recta Rubrum.” From the back of the pack of Astartes, a bulky servo-skull hovered up to Vulkan’s location. The weapons package snapped on and started expanding along his backside. The pair of twin-linked lascannons settled down on his shoulders as he leaned forward, clamping into the ground. A downward hum gathered around the primarch as the massive cannons powered up and prepared to fire. Vulkan roared out amongst the din, “BURN ALL TO ASH!” Twin lances of heat and light lit up the battlefield. The warboss instantly burned down to a green-gray slag. A meganob and other orks unlucky enough to be standing near the warboss caught fire. With their leader gone, the surrounding orks panicked and were easily routed. Imperial forces had breached the city.


: Snork was running as fast as his squat legs would take him. He wished he had some aug’menics to give him some help. Suddenly, his shoulder started to burn, like he dropped a piece of cooked grot on it. He looked out and saw the source was a shaking, dirty humie. It wasn’t even wearing the rocky bits that he saw the others wearing. As another ork ran past him, he realized he might not get to fight. Snork sped up as much as he could. More of the boyz appeared next to him. Now he was close enough to see the puny humie really well. Its eyes were wide with fear, as were the other few humies that he could now see as well. His toothy grin grew. Snork and the boyz began to mount the earth and rock embankment. Over the shouts and growls and WAAAGH!s, a new sound appeared, “PURGE THE XENOS” Snork looked up.


: A squad of red and blue Space Marines were rocketing down on pillars of fire and smoke. The huge baskets on their backs lit up with tight flames as they pulsed to decelerate to survivable speeds. Three of the them crushed the orks they were fortunate enough to land on, including Snork. The others landed, brandishing power weapons, and generated large impact bubbles that pushed and threw dirt, rocks, metal and orks out away from them. The squad stood upon that embankment, not moving or giving any ground. Orfin’s Respite would not be taken this day or any other. All the while the small humans of the PDF and local defenders looked up in awe at the bastions of the Emperor. The pasted form of Snork was a grim monument of the ork highwater mark.


: Back in Tembor’s capital of Lomardia, the battle was raging and growing in fervor and blood loss as the minutes ticked by. Whole levels of the city were inundated with war, dotted with firefights and mass shootouts. On the fourth level, a desperate scene was playing out. Rubble spat out from the back of the trukk. The dirty fountain landed on the trukk following it. The truk fell back, to see and to get to a better firing position. Now, one would think that a truk would be fairly useless in a hive city, but in a wide open courtyard they could function as intended. The orks roared in glee as they hammered the firing studs on their big shootas as hard as they could. The truks circled the edge of the courtyard, shelling the unfortunates in the middle of the circular court. It so happened that a group of Salamanders were the unfortunate ones, including their primarch.


: Vulkan was in a crouched stance, ready to spring into action the instant an opening present itself. Around him was his squad: three of his remaining guard, several veterans, and half a dozen men from 3rd Company. Above him four odd bulbous servo-skulls rotated, projecting void shields whilst drawing arcing power streams from a generator hastily set into the rockcrete. The oscillating void shields were providing cover from all but a paltry few strays and ricochets that made it through. But they were pinned down none the less. The constant fusillade of bullets was beginning to take its toll on the shields; two of the skull were starting to spark and overload. Vulkan keyed his vox, “This is Vulkan. My squad and I are pinned down in the main courtyard.... courtyard on the fourth level. If you could come give us a hand, that would be great.” One of the servo-skulls blew apart, it machine spirit finished, and one of the orks on the truk took immediate advantage. Vulkan’s back was to the truk. A 1st Company marine lept into the gap and began to fire at the truk. The bolter couldn’t compare to the much larger truk mounted shoota. The marine fell, full of smoking holes. Vulkan rose, his arms spreading out 180 degrees. The storm bolter spat round after round at the truk, leaving pockmarks and twisted holes but not doing much other than pissing off the orks. A second servo-skull exploded showering the Astartes with smoking metal bits. A pair of marines were taken off their feet by the rounds no longer spattering against the void shields. Things were about to get much worse. But, the sound in the courtyard began to doppler and distort from one side as a dull whine began to grow.


: A green-gray blob of energy slammed into one of the truks right behind the cab. As the graviton blast began to take effect, audible crack of metal plates deforming and crushing groans of the rockcrete tearing itself apart became the dominant sounds in the court. Moments later all that was left was a rapidly shrinking pile of metal, rubber and ork. Rounds self-ignited as the debris compressed under the immense gravity. The rubbery paste of greenskin oozed out between the gaps and was forced to flow down. The engine had long since compacted itself and the fuel, oil and grease had pooled and ignited throwing up thick, oily clouds. The graviton field finally exhausted itself and the courtyard returned to its previous ways, sans one truk. The orks on the other truk roared in protest, itching to get revenge for their fellow boyz. The chance presented itself as the smoke parted and whorled as a squad of Red Scorpion lept through. They quickly scrambled as the big shoota loosed rounds their way. The orks on the truk squealed as a Red Scorpion’s Terminator crashed through a hab scant meters ahead of them. The hulking marine braced and grabbed the front of their truk. All the orks were thrown forward as the truk came to a dead stop. The Terminator’s armor protested such abuse, but it relented as he lifted the front end and heaved it to the side. It crashed over and rolled, the ork on top bifurcating as it tumbled over him. The Terminator stuck a gauntlet into a viewing port and activated his flamer. The truk bloomed with geysers of holy fire. Vulkan keyed off the void-skulls, thanked their machine spirits, and walked over to the newly arrived Astartes to thank them as well.


: The city was rapidly falling to Imperial hands. The Red Scorpions ran amok, unbound by streets and paths. Their tactical marines lept and vaulted over alleys and gaps, traversing the multi-tiered streets with grace. Assault marines would rocket up to the next level, ambush a group of orks and then drop back down. The few Terminators that accompanied them smashed through orks, habs, and rockcrete walls with impunity. The few Ultramarines that had dropped down had brought along several Land Speeders and were currently racing through the corridors and streets making a mess of the orks lines. Soon it appeared that the green armored Salamanders equaled the amount of greenskins skulking about Lomardia. In reality, the Overfiend Tygahfang was massing his boyz on an upper level. It was no surprise that the two leaders of the green armies would find and fight each other.


: The huge mass of orks was a writhing, living sea of green. An angry, smelly, clanky sea of green. Plus, they had spent the better part of a day cooped up on an upper level. Which meant they were extremely pissed off; they could hear all the sounds of battle going on and yet they weren’t in the middle of it. The sounds of battle tapered off and soon the unholy din of the orks died down. All around the level, the outer rings of orks erupted into huge conflagrations of flames and holy promethium. Through the flames, green Terminators silently appeared and began to burn down orks left and right. They were creating lanes into the middle of the orks, slicing the mass up and assaulting them from all sides. The open lines behind the Terminators were quickly filled with marines, bolters firing and power weapons swinging. The assault marines once again used their jump packs to great use. From the spires above, they dropped in squads and would blast apart formations of orks leaving gaping holes in the green expanse, then jump out when the hole threatened to close. The area Vulkan had chosen to punch through is not a mere lane, it was a column. The primarch was a whirling, vortex of Power Hammer and storm bolter. Orks were falling in droves before the mighty Lord of the Salamanders. Determined and burdened with purpose, Vulkan came face to face with the Overfiend himself. As the two squared off, a ring formed around them, no one, ork or human wanted to get close to them.


: When the crowds finally parted, Vulkan got his first good look at Tygahfang. The ork was massive, standing at four meters, being able to look down at even the primarch. His left leg was all but gone, sacrificed to the whims of whatever mekboy he trusted enough to fix him up. His right, was supported with a smattering of trusses and hydraulics to compensate for his weight. The upper parts of the Overfiend were downright terrifying. His right hand was huge, not even a Power Klaw, just an over-developed hand with the same ramshackle supports and driving pistons attached as the leg. The left hand was an actual Power Klaw with an auxillary shoota embedded in the palm. His torso was encased in a huge rusted chest plate, with all the orky attachments an ork of his stature could buy. This included a pair of small mechanical arms that grasped at air constantly. His head was half ork, half mek. His jaw had been long been aided by a metal grill that allowed him to chomp through just about anything. The pack on his back was belching hot, wavering steam as the generators chugged, powered by the mere thought of them working. Gears, chains, and pumps could be heard hard at work all across the beast. And Vulkan was going toe to toe with it. “Yous look like ya mite gimme uh good fight! Less yer a grot, like I tink ya mite be!” The ork clomped forward, not even pausing to smash an unlucky nob in front of him with his massive right hand. Vulkan rushed in. 

	
: The primarch jaunted in firing his storm bolter. The bolts exploded harmlessly, mostly pockmarking the metal or blowing meaningless chunks of green skin away. The Power Klaw came rushing at him from the right. He tucked and rolled toward and under it, his armor sparking on the ground. As he rose, his hammer lashed out with the momentum he’d had and struck the mek leg. A resounding explosion of disrupting energy and orky metal sounded. The ork buckled but the leg refused to give. A hand slugged him in the back, parts of his pack denting under the impact. Vulkan staggered forward as the ork turned. “Maybe ya’s not uh grot!” Tygahfangs Klaw opened and the shoota in it started spitting bullets. The ground around Vulkan churned and geysered upward as they hit everywhere but him. They circled each other trading swipes, shots and dodging as much as could be expected from two champions. The Overfiend lept forward with a strong right jab, but the primarch weaved around it and went in as the ork stumbled forward. He wasn’t expecting the two arms to grapple him and pull him inward. Tygahfang let out a great bellowing laugh as he prepared to grab the human with his Power Klaw.


: Vulkan grimaced. The Klaw was closing in. He wretched his arm upward and emptied the storm bolter into the orks gut. A concentrated barrage of bolter shells easily penetrated the armor began wreaking havoc on the Overfiend’s innards. The ork roared, reeling backwards in pain and anger. The primarch dropped to the ground. Discarding his useless storm bolter, he hefted the Power Hammer in two hands. Vulkan rained blows down upon the ork, not dealing life threatening damage, but clearly having the upperhand. That changed. As he dropped back and then lunged forward, preparing to strike again, Tygahfang reached out with his massive right paw. He caught the head of the hammer in his hand. The disruptive fields arced outward between his fingers as the hammer tore apart his gauntlet at a molecular level. Molten slag and tissue dripped down as the hammer dug deeper. The ork didn’t care, he merely smirked and yanked Vulkan off balance. Stumbling forward, the primarch was caught mid-stride by the Power Klaw. The power fields sparked and crackled as they bit through his Nemean armor. The ork roared again as the shoota in the klaw discharged, wrecking Vulkan’s torso. He coughed and spit up blood; one hand holding stubbornly to his hammer, the other trying to lever the Klaw off. The ork let out another bellowing laugh. To punctuated it, the Overfiend leaned in and bit off the primarch’s left arm.


: Vulkan screamed in pain as his arm detached. Acidic blood sprayed everywhere mixing with ork blood. The Overfiend spit out the section of arm and tossed aside the hammer. It hit a nob and the still active disruptive fields exploded it. He shook the primarch like a rag doll. The Power Klaw threatened to cut clean through the slowly failing Nemean armor. He was barely conscious. He had lost a ton of blood from his arm and from his abdomen. Tygahfang let out a mighty WAAAGH! and brought his closed fist down on the head of the captive primarch. The nasty ‘scrunch’ of flesh and bone squeaked out with the groan and crack of the armor giving way. The Overfiend hoisted the lifeless body and roared, “Da big humie iz dead. Ah krumped ‘im good! Iz da greenest and meanest! WAAAAAAGH!” All the orks roared in response and shouted all the louder as their Overfiend tossed the body aside. The fighting turned desperate, the possibility of the orks winning now very clear.

===Alabaster Gleaming===
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===Light of the Emperor===
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===The Primarchs Gather===
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